Birthdays, Bars, & Bathrooms
by Artemis Leaena
Summary: Bella's a fortress of secrets, not the least of which is why she's afraid to let anyone "in." Can a birthday present from Edward be what finally teaches her to love again, or will his secrets destroy what's left of her heart? E/BPOV, AH, OOC, M for L&L ***slow updates***


**Disclaimer: **_The Twilight Saga_ & all associated characters are the copyrighted creation & property of Stephenie Meyer. Any other publicly recognized characters, brands, quotes or "catch phrases" are the sole trademarked &/or copyrighted property of their respective creators. No copyright or trademark infringement is purposely intended with this story. The plot & any original characters of this story are the property of Artemis Leaena. This work may not be reposted, reproduced, or translated without the permission of the author.

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><p><strong>AN:**

This is a little fantasy that popped into my head and refused to leave, so I had to get it down and share it with y'all. Hope you like it.

**A/N 12/23/13:**

After much consideration, weeks/months of debating it in my head, & hashing it out with anyone who would listen to my neurotic babbling, I have decided NOT to go back & re-edit this fic. I just don't think I'd be able to edit BB&B for grammar, sentence structure, & general flow only … I know me … I'd want to rewrite it completely. So to avoid destroying it completely, I'm going to leave it as is & hope that people won't flounce based on the writing … that they'll stick with it to see that my writing improves over time … even if the plot doesn't, the technical aspect does. Thank you, all, for your continued support of me, my writing, & Docward/Psychoella. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 1:<br>Love That Classic Cock…I Mean ROCK!**

**BPOV**

I couldn't believe it. I was thirty-five. Thirty-fucking-five for pity's sake! And I was completely alone … more so than I cared to admit, actually. I lifted my eyes from the drink I'd been nursing for the past half hour and glanced around the seedy little bar I'd dragged myself to in order to "celebrate." Celebrate? _Ha_! That was a joke. I was thirty-five, single, and sitting at a bar slowly getting drunk … by myself! My own parents hadn't even called today to wish me a happy birthday. So, yeah ... Happy _fucking_ Birthday to me!

As I sat there feeling sorry for myself – let's face it, I'd been doing that all day, pretty much – I took in the tackiness of my surroundings. The metal rails that surrounded the bar at the top and bottom were tarnished. The mirror behind the bar was a dingy yellow from years of cigarette smoke. One of the tails of the blue ribbon from the neon Pabst Blue sign was burned out. The bar was pock-marked, and the upholstery of the stool I sat on was ripped and torn so severely in places that the inner padding could be seen … it, like the rest of the bar, had seen better days. But it had been the first place I drove past that served alcohol, so it was where I was hosting my little pity party for one tonight.

To say this was a "hole in the wall" was actually a kind and generous accolade. But, at least they were playing some decent music. The tired old jukebox in the corner, that looked like it had survived more than a few rough fights, whirred and clanked as the record changed and AC/DC's _Highway to Hell_ began playing. I nodded along to the music and let the lyrics wash over me.

_I'm on the highway to hell...on the highway to hell ... highway to hell...I'm on the highway to hell ... _

You and me both, Bon … you and me both!

I turned my attention back to my drink, taking a sip of the straight vodka in my glass and feeling it burn its way down my throat. I was certain I would feel the effects of my choice of poison the next morning, but at the moment, I just couldn't make myself give a damn. And with that thought fixed firmly in my mind, I downed the last of my Stoli and slammed the empty glass down in front of me triumphantly.

"You need a refill, beautiful?"

I half-heartedly smiled up at the creepy bartender and nodded. Mentally, though, I was rolling my eyes at his lame-assed attempt to flirt with me … again! He'd been doing it all night, and fortunately, I wasn't drunk enough to tell him exactly what I thought of his advances.

He slid another glass of Russian water in front of me, and I reached into my front pocket to get my money out. "Nah, this one's on me, gorgeous," he said in what, I had to assume, was meant to be a seductive tone and winked at me.

"Uh … thanks," I quietly murmured, but then with slightly more assertiveness declared, "But I'd really like to pay, if that's alright." I didn't want to be a bitch about it, but something told me that he would read too much into the gesture if I accepted his drink.

"Suit yourself, lady," he sniped sullenly. Lady? Really? I cocked a single mental eyebrow. Well, good to know my instincts were right about this dip-shit. "That'll be seven-fifty."

I smiled tightly and passed him a ten. While I waited for him to go to the other end of the bar to get my change – I'd be damned if I was tipping that cretin two-fifty – I allowed my eyes to wander around the bar. I heard the bartender return and felt him brush his hand against mine as he laid my money down, but when I refused to acknowledge his presence, he jerked his hand away and left. Good riddance!

As the grinding of the jukebox once again captured my attention, the song changing to Black Sabbath's _Rock-n-Roll Doctor_ pulled my gaze to the far corner of the room, but it was the living statue in a black tee-shirt and low slung faded blues that kept my eyes riveted in that direction.

His shirt was tight enough that the muscles of his back and his shoulder blades were defined, and I could see them ripple beneath the cloth as he moved. The sleeves of his tee clung to his biceps, and I was certain both of my hands together would be _just_ shy of being able to wrap around them completely. His shoulders were wide, his torso tapering down to a narrow waist and hips, and what promised to be a solidly bitable derrière. I continued my perusal down his long, long legs. Oh my, was he _tall_!

I felt a heated flush creeping across my face and chest as my eyes traveled back up his body and came to rest on his hair. It was the most unusual shade I had ever seen. It wasn't blond, or red, or brown, but seemed to be all three at once; a shade of sun-lit bronze so vibrant it was worthy of the mythological god who commanded that shining celestial orb. I was still transfixed by how his hair seemed to have a life of its own, going in several different directions as if it refused to be restricted to only one, when Apollo turned away from the jukebox and I was sucked into a vortex of forest green.

My lungs refused to work, my mouth was hanging open on a gasp, and my eyes were beginning to dry and ache from my lack of blinking. I felt my face begin to burn in humiliation as I realized I was ogling this poor stranger – not that I had any intention of stopping anytime soon – and I thought my shame couldn't possibly increase. As usual, life was determined to prove me wrong. To my utter mortification, those soul-sucking emerald orbs locked with mine. All the air in my lungs left me in a hard gust as it felt as if I'd been punched in the gut … with a sledgehammer!

I tore my gaze away from his eyes but found no relief in the straight nose that led my eyes down to a strong jaw, where his rugged chin drew me to his beautifully full pink lips. Lips that were now twisted up into a lop-sided, sexy – _knowing – _grin. I tried to swallow but found myself unable to as my mouth had suddenly gone bone dry.

I spun sharply on my seat and closed my eyes, trying to get a handle on the runaway train my heart had become. I lifted my glass to my dry lips, thinking the alcohol would steady my nerves, only to find that my hand was shaking. What the _hell_? He was just a _man_. I scoffed at myself and, instead of sipping my drink, I tossed the contents of my glass down my throat, squeezing my eyes shut tight, fighting the urge to cough as fire trailed all the way down to my stomach.

I began dragging in ragged, uneven breaths, keeping my eyes closed, and my breathing and heart rate had just about returned to normal when I felt something soft and warm brush against my forearm and a bolt of pure electricity shoot sharply through my entire body. I gasped and whipped my head in the direction of the warmth, opening my eyes as I did so. It was _him_! It was _his_ arm touching mine. And it was _his_ eyes that locked with mine before turning to the bartender. My heart slammed into my ribcage, trying to escape through my chest.

"Hey, Mike, can I get another round put on my tab?" My mouth went dry again, and my entire body began tingling as his velvety voice feathered over my skin like a caress. He turned and smirked at me as if he knew what he was doing to me. "And get the lady another …" He left it hanging as a question. A question he expected me to answer, if his single cocked brow was any indication.

"St … Stoli," I managed to stammer in a barely audible, and very shaky, voice.

He smiled broadly. "Another Stolichnaya … on me, of course." I somehow swallowed the moan that wanted to escape my lips at the sound of his pronunciation of the Russian vodka's name.

I felt, more than saw, Mike – the baby-faced creeper now had a name – set my drink in front of me as I was still staring, spellbound, at the epitome of sex on two legs standing beside me. I wanted to refuse…on principle, of course. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to tackle him to the ground and run my tongue all over his body! All I managed to do, though, was stare gape-mouthed at him…and maybe drool a little.

He chuckled lightly, and then leaned slightly toward me to whisper seductively, "You're welcome, beautiful." He then winked and walked away.

Whereas before I couldn't seem to breathe, now I seemed to be breathing too much … I was practically panting. Just because he called me beautiful? No. Because he winked at me? Possibly. Because he used that sultry voice to whisper to me? I shook my head. I was a fool! There was no way he was flirting with me. No one seriously flirted with me … _ever_. I immediately felt both a settling calm and a crushing despair wash over me as I realized I had let the combination of my loneliness, the vodka, and my fanciful imagination draw me into the fantasy of a sexy, mysterious man being attracted to me.

But _was_ it a fantasy? Over the course of the next hour, I drank the Stoli he'd bought me – not to mention the two others the increasingly pouty Mike said the stranger had bought me – and surreptitiously watched him from beneath my lashes when I thought he wasn't looking. Yeah, that didn't so much work out for me, as I would often catch him watching me in return. A time or two, he even raised his glass in salute to me. I found myself beginning to believe my own fantasy and allowing a wonderfully wicked, wanton, wholly whorish plan to form in my increasingly alcohol-soaked brain. I giggled a little at myself. Clearly, even inebriated I could still alliterate with the best of them.

If I had imbibed just a little less vodka – or perhaps just a little bit _more_ – I might not have done what I did next. Lucky for me, I had drunk _just_ enough of that Kaliningrad rye to let my inhibitions go and give in to my baser desires. I kept an eye on Mr. Muscles, and when I saw him excuse himself from his friends to use the restroom, I made my move.

I finished off my latest drink and followed him down a short, dark hallway where he disappeared behind a wooden door that had a picture of both male and female stick figures on it. Great! A unisex bathroom. Probably single stall too. Oh well, there weren't that many people here tonight, and I didn't intend to be in there any longer than it would take to accomplish my goal. My barely functioning brain reasoned that the risk was still worth taking.

I hesitated just outside the door, my hand hovering in mid-air. I didn't want to walk in on him while he was … well … busy! I waited just a moment or two more, and then I reached forward and tested the knob and found it to be unlocked. I turned it, opened the door, and quietly slipped inside. Once inside, I allowed the door to close with a soft click and then leaned back against it. I saw that he had finished his business and was presently washing his hands in the single sink. At the sound of the door closing, he raised his head and our eyes met in the mirror.

"Hi," I uttered breathlessly.

He smirked at my reflection before him. "Hi, yourself." He paused for a second, and then that damn single brow ratcheted up. "Can I help you with something?"

I swallowed thickly and reached back one of my hands to flip the lock on the door. _That_ got his attention. He turned away from my reflection to face me fully. He leaned his ass back against the sink, crossed his arms over his chest and one ankle over the other, and all the while, that eyebrow remained cocked. He was also mesmerizing me with that lopsided smirk of his now, though.

"It's my birthday!" I stupidly blurted out. I just stood there after that, wide-eyed and, once again, my mouth hanging open, waiting for my brain to come up with something more clever to say. Nope! Wasn't going to happen!

His perfect mouth evened out into a genuine grin. "Well, happy birthday!"

I finally managed to remember how to close my mouth and my eyes and shook my head gently, trying to clear some of the fog his presence and sexy mannerisms – okay, and the alcohol – had created. I gathered my courage, opened my eyes, and simply went for it.

"I want _you_ to be my present!"

His eyes seemed to pop out of his head, his other eyebrow flew up to join its twin, and his mouth dropped open but he recovered much quicker than I ever did. He shook his head and looked as if he were about to say something. I panicked! I didn't want him to tell me no. I could handle a lot of rejection – I was sort of a pro at it by this point in my life – but not from him. Not here. Not _tonight_.

I leapt slightly forward and threw my hands in the air, fingertips pointing up and palms facing him, in a sort of "I come in peace" manner, then started rambling so fast I could only hope I was actually speaking English.

"I know this is really, really weird, and I can assure you that I've _never_ done anything like this before. But it's my birthday. And I'm alone. And you're _really_ good looking!" He chuckled, but I just kept right on babbling. "And it's been a really long time for me – I'm practically a virgin again, it's been so long –" I mumbled that last part, allowing my frustration to show "– and I just really think I'd like what you could do to me! I already like what you're doing to me!"

He had closed his mouth when I started my word vomit, but at that last confession, he opened it again and made to speak. I once again cut him off from speaking, too afraid I was losing this battle. The pitch and volume of my voice was slightly higher when I began to speak again, and there was a note of desperation to my tone that I didn't care to examine at this point.

The words began flying from my mouth even faster than before. "I know I'm nothing to look at – my hair and eyes are the wrong color, my ass is too fat, my breasts are too small – but if you'll do this for … _to _… me, you don't even have to look at me. I don't mind doggy, or even bent over the sink." This revelation had him raising both his eyebrows again and bringing back the lopsided smirk.

"I don't care if you think about someone else while you fuck me, and you don't have to kiss me or have any other contact with me other than what's necessary." This comment induced a mild choking and coughing fit from him, but again, he quickly recovered, and I soldiered on.

"And I don't want anything from you. I promise I'm not some kind of psychotic stalker or anything. I don't even want to know your name or to give you mine. In fact, there's no need for us to ever have anything to do with each other after this. If I were ever to encounter you in public, I'd probably make it a point to ignore you."

_He's scowling. Why is he scowling?_ _You just offered him "no strings attached" sex. Isn't that every male's dream-come-true?_

Oh, God. He's going to refuse! Did he think I actually _was _some kind of stalker chick? Did he think he'd be taking advantage of me? Or was he simply not attracted to me? "I'm not too drunk!" I finally stopped talking after I practically screamed that last bit at him, my hand flying up to cover my mouth and the little squeak that I couldn't stop.

He stood there staring at me for a moment before he frowned and asked, "Are you done?"

My heart plunged into my stomach, and I could feel tears of humiliation and rejection begin to form behind my eyes at how brazenly stupid I had just been, but I nodded, indicating I was, indeed, done speaking. Now, if only the floor would cooperate and turn into a black hole that could swallow me whole, life could return to normal!

**EPOV**

I stood there staring in silent shock at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, waging an internal war. I knew what I _should_ say and do, but it wasn't what I _wanted_ to say or do – had wanted to do since the moment she walked into the bar earlier tonight, in fact. Not much to look at? Damn! Why were women, in general and this one in particular, always so blind when it came to seeing themselves?

I allowed my eyes to rove over the creature before me, taking note of each feature she had maligned and all the ones she hadn't mentioned. Her breasts didn't look too small. In fact, they looked like they would just fit in my hands, which, to me, was the perfect size. I could tell by the way they bounced and jiggled as she drew in short, sharp gasps of air that they were real too. I _preferred_ real, no matter their size. I never understood why women – and some moronic men – would want to turn something soft and supple into something hard and unyielding just for more size. My palms itched to hold her very real, very perfect breasts.

Her ass was not the _least_ bit fat … at least not from where I was standing. Well rounded, yes. A real handful! Skinny as a rail with bones sticking out, or toned to the point of hardness seemed to be what most thought of as the "perfect" female physique, but I guess I just liked soft things, because I liked my women curvy. And _damn_, did this woman fit that bill. Like with her breasts before, my hands were longing to grab those cheeks and curves, and squeeze and knead until she moaned in pleasure.

Her hair was perfect too! I know blondes were what most men said they preferred, but I had always favored brunettes. This brunette, in particular, had me aching to run my hands through her long, thick, mahogany tresses. Her hair looked soft and shiny. Maybe I was a sick fuck with a hair fetish, or perhaps I was a little _too_ in touch with my feminine side, but I wondered if it was as silky as it looked and what it would smell like if I were to bury my face in it.

Finally, I came to her eyes, and I stopped. Again, not the wrong color. While it's true, I had never cared much for brown eyes, as they were usually dull and cow-like, her chocolate spheres were different. They were molten, warm, and deep, and the first instant I had looked into them, I had felt myself get lost in their inviting, sparkling depths. All of that, combined with her smooth, alabaster skin, her rose tinted, full lips, her small, pert nose, and delicately heart shaped face and I was done for! I mean, I wasn't ready to fall to my knees and declare my eternal love, but … yeah … I just _might_!

But right now, that face looked terrified and those eyes were starting to look cagey and glassy with unshed tears, and I knew I needed to say something soon or this frightened doe would flee.

I pushed away from the sink and took a tentative step toward her, holding my hands up to show her I meant no harm, as she had done with me earlier. I tried to convey this message in my smile as well.

"First of all, I don't think you see yourself clearly, at all." I dropped the pitch of my voice ever so slightly, making it more soothing. "From the moment you walked in the bar tonight, I haven't been able to take my eyes off of you. And I like everything the sight of you has done to me, too. My _God_, woman, don't you know how exquisite you are?" I audibly gasped and felt my pants begin to tighten as I added yet another feature of hers to my list of what I found to be perfect about her … she _blushed_! It wasn't just her face either – though that was an adorable shade of pinkish-red – but her blush spread down her graceful neck and across her sexy collarbones and chest that was exposed by the slight V of her shirt as well.

I took courage in the fact that she was obviously embarrassed by my compliment but wasn't turning tail to run, so I continued. "I would never be able to ignore you, if we crossed paths on the street. I would be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. And I _do_ want to know your name, but I understand –"

"Bella." She lowered her hands and breathed out the two syllables that would be forever etched into my mind.

My grin grew impossibly wider. "Bella," I softly repeated and allowed it to roll off my tongue … I liked it! "Edward." I held my hand out to her in introduction, and she slipped one of her small, warm hands into mine. I immediately closed my fingers around it and brought my other hand up so that I was cupping her hand in both of mine.

I dropped my voice once again until it was barely more than a whisper … low, and sensual. "But, Bella, before I fuck you –" her eyes had lowered to our clasped hands, but at this, she snapped her head up and our eyes collided. A deer caught in headlights couldn't have looked more astonished than she did at that moment "– there are a few things you need to know." Her eyes grew wider, her mouth dropped open, and her breaths were coming quick and shallow.

I stepped closer to her, bringing our hands up to my chest, and leaned in until my face was mere inches from hers. I could feel her breath, warm and sweet, fanning over me. "One: when I'm buried deep inside your hot, wet pussy, it will be _you_ I'm thinking of." Her breathing hitched and sped up, but she didn't look away from me.

I moved infinitesimally closer, backing her up closer to the door. "Two: when you come on my cock, I _will_ be looking at you and watching as the pleasure plays across your face." I was close enough to her now that I could feel her body start to tremble, but still, her eyes remained locked with mine, and there was no sign of flight.

I took the remaining step that would bring her back flush against the door and press the length of my body against hers. I lowered my face, and my lips hovered right over hers, not quite touching them. We were breathing each other's breaths. I could practically taste her.

"And three, Bella –" I licked my lips, swallowed hard, and prepared to put the final nail in this coffin "– I _am_ going to kiss you!" Her sharp intake of air was barely complete before my lips crashed down upon hers. I plunged my tongue into her already open mouth, exploring, tasting, teasing, and I groaned when I was met with her tongue as she did the same.

I dropped her hand, moving to sink one of mine into her hair – it was just as soft and silky as it had looked – and bringing my other one to rest on her side, just below her breast. Now that both of her hands were free, she snaked her arms up and around my neck, her fingers grasping the hair at my nape. I moaned into her mouth and bucked my hips into hers, letting her know I enjoyed her tugging on my hair.

She whimpered a little as she felt just how aroused I was, but she got the message loud and clear and took a chunk of my hair in each hand and squeezed her fingers into tight little fists. The resulting effect was that my hair was pulled taut, and it sent a shot of electric pleasure straight to my already painfully hard dick. The hand that was in her hair tightened and pushed her lips harder into mine, and I ground my erection into her, reveling in the much needed friction the action brought me.

After what felt like an eternity, but was actually only a handful of seconds, I realized we both needed air and I tore my lips away from her mouth, but I couldn't stop kissing her. Instead, I moved to the side of her neck and began alternating between placing open-mouthed, wet kisses along its length and sucking, nibbling, and licking her flesh which was quickly becoming my own personal ambrosia. She tilted her head to the side to give me better access and purred. The vibrations of the sound traveled across her skin to mine, and I growled at the sensation.

I licked my way up to her ear, taking her tender lobe between my lips and sucking. She was panting in my ear, and her hands were dragging through my hair, scratching my scalp and pulling my locks. It felt wonderful! I stopped sucking on her earlobe but left it between my lips, fanning her flesh with my hot breath as I whispered, "Bella." Her entire body began to shiver and quake. "Please. May I fuck you?" I then bit down, hard, on the flesh between my lips.

She slammed her hips forward into me and gasped, "Yes!"

That was all I needed to hear to free my conscience and spur me on to a frenzy of action. Her lips became my willing captives as I seized them, and her tongue skillfully sparred with mine in a furious tango of twists and slides. My hands became commanders of her body, demanding her whimpers and moans of pleasure with every flick of my fingers over her pebbled nipples, every sweep of my knuckles across her soft abdomen, and every caress of my palm against her back. I continued my exploration until my questing digits found their way to her hips, and then around to that perfect ass. I grabbed a cheek in each hand and squeezed, eliciting yet another moan from both of us, and picked her up to wrap her legs around my waist.

The heavy guitar licks of Steppenwolf's _Born to Be Wild_ began streaming through the thin wooden door, and I began grinding, rubbing, and sliding my aching erection against her hot center in time to the beat. All the while our tongues continued to imitate the act I couldn't wait to get to with her. Our breathing was heavy, erratic, and fed each other the air we desperately needed but didn't want to separate to gain.

She was alternating between her tiny hands gripping my hair as if it were a lifeline keeping her from drowning and her sharp finger nails clawing and digging at my shoulders and upper back. My hands were kneading her ass, wrapping around the backs of her thighs, slipping between her legs to feel the heat radiating from her core. That's when I felt it. The center of her jeans were damp, she was so wet for me she was soaking through the heavy denim. If it were at all possible, I grew even harder at the knowledge of just what I was doing to this woman.

I couldn't stand it anymore. With a final nip at her top lip, and with great reluctance, I wrenched my mouth away from her kiss-swollen lips. Resting my forehead against hers, I took a small, agonizing moment to catch my breath before murmuring, "I need to be inside of you … _now_!"

She opened her eyes and seared my soul with a single look. She was struggling to catch her breath too, and not succeeding very well. She didn't answer me verbally as she had before – I'm not sure she was capable of speech – but she nodded and leaned forward to take my bottom lip in her mouth and began sucking on it. Oh, God, the heat of her mouth felt wonderful, and I couldn't help imagining what it would feel like wrapped around my dick.

Our lips, again, latched on to each other, and I grabbed her more tightly to me as I carried her over to the sink counter, sitting her down on the ledge. I began trailing kisses down her jaw, to her neck, and back again as I reached down and began unfastening her jeans. She lifted her hips up a bit as my hands hooked in the waist of both her jeans and her panties, and I pulled them swiftly down her legs until they caught and hooked on her feet and ankles.

As I did this, she was reaching down and unbuttoning the fly of my Levi's. I quickly reached into my back pocket for my wallet, slamming it on the counter beside her, before she shoved my pants down just past my hips. I was never as glad as I was in that moment that I had chosen to go commando tonight. She pulled back and looked down as my cock sprung free and bounced between us.

I kept my eyes locked on her face, waiting and watching for her response to seeing all of me for the first time. Being larger than average – in both length and girth – I had never cared, or been nervous, about what sort of reaction the women I was intimate with would have to me. But with Bella, I _did _care, and I _was _nervous. I couldn't explain why, but what she thought of my appendage mattered to me. As I watched her, though, my anxiety melted away as her eyes darkened perceptibly, her mouth opened and formed the sexiest "o" I had ever seen, and her breathing became faster and shallower.

This woman was going to be the death of me! I continued to watch, entranced, as she licked her red, petal soft lips. Then she swallowed with visible difficulty and began to pant as she tentatively, almost reverently, reached a shaking hand forward, running the tip of her index finger over the slit in the engorged head of my shaft. It was too much, and I hissed, reaching forward to grab her wrist and pull it away from me.

Her eyes flew up to meet mine, and the look of rejection I saw flash in their depths ripped at my gut. I immediately crashed my lips to hers for a hard, passion filled kiss before I leaned back and croaked, "Not now, love. Not now!" Then my mouth was back on hers, our tongues dancing. Her hands were back in my hair, tugging, pulling. Without looking at what I was doing, I fumbled for my wallet, flipping it open and blindly searching for the condom I knew was in the money fold, and I made a mental note to thank Emmett for his "gift" later.

I stepped back from her just enough to be able to rip open the foil and roll the latex over me. I reached up and captured her face between my large hands and held them there until her eyes fluttered open to look at me with confusion. I licked my lips, leaned forward to place a soft, chaste kiss upon her glorious lips, and then pulled back again.

I held her eyes with mine as I whispered, "I want to see your eyes when you come." She gasped and blushed again. Yep, she was definitely trying to kill me. "Keep those beautiful eyes open, Bella. _Watch_ me. See what _you_ do to me, and how _you_ make me feel."

She gulped and nodded, and both of our breaths started coming hard and fast as I trailed one hand down her throat, her neck, her abdomen, and slipped a single finger between her slick folds … our eyes never losing contact. She gasped and jerked when my finger glided over her severely swollen clit. I flicked it a few more times, causing her to spasm, and pant all the harder. But her eyes never left mine, just as I'd asked.

I brought both of my hands to her hips, reflexively squeezing and releasing them a few times before I slid them around to her bare ass and slowly slid her forward on the counter until she was perched right on the edge, knees bent and spread wide. I reached back around to the front and took my cock in my hand, stroking it slowly a few times before bringing it to her sopping core and running the head between her lips several times, allowing her to feel me before I filled her.

She was moaning and writhing, and I knew she needed this now as much as I did. I aligned myself with her entrance and returned my hand to her hip, bracing her. Then I slammed deeply into her as swiftly and as hard as I could, burying myself to hilt in the tightest, hottest pussy I had ever been in. "Ungh!"

Her eyes widened perceptibly, her nails dug sharply into my shoulders, and my name was ripped from her lips on a scream. "Edward!"

That single, high-pitched word was my undoing. I roughly grabbed her hips and began pistoning in and out of her at almost super human speed. The sound of our flesh slapping together, of our heavy, erratic breathing, of our mutual moans, grunts, and growls were creating a sound track to our fucking that would be playing in my head for weeks to come, I was sure. And all the while, she wove the sweetest melody through it by panting out a litany of, "Oh fuck! Oh God! Oh … so good … so good, Edward!" And just as I had told her to, she kept her eyes open and riveted to mine.

For just one fleeting moment, she clenched her eyes shut, but as soon as she heard me growl, she opened them again, they were even wider than they had been before, and her breathing – as well as her clawing, grasping hands – became even more desperate. It was then that I felt her thighs begin to quiver and her hot, wet, tight glove begin to clench around me, and I knew she was about to go over the edge.

My pounding thrusts became even more frenetic as I raced to catch up with and join her on that knife's edge. Just as I felt my balls begin to tighten, signaling my eminent release, I felt her walls clamp down around me like a vice-clamp and begin pulsating, drawing me deeper and deeper into her depths. She threw her head back and her mouth fell open on a keening screech as her orgasm took her. "Oh God _YES_, Edward … yes … yes … fuck _yeeeeeeeeeees._"

That was it, I was done! I slammed into her once, twice more and let a feral snarl rip from my chest as I exploded deep inside her, my body twitching and riding out the hardest, most gratifying orgasm of my life. When I came back to earth, I let my head collapse onto her shoulder. We sat there, our chests moving in sync, our breaths coming in tandem, and our hearts beating a solitary rhythm.

All too soon, reality came crashing back into us, and I felt her stiffen then start wiggling and pushing, trying to get away. I withdrew from her, hissing at how sensitive and raw I felt despite the condom, but also at how suddenly bereft and cold I was. She pushed against my chest harder, and I stepped farther back away from her.

I made to reach out to her, to feel her, to hold her, to make her understand what I was feeling and maybe try to understand what she was feeling, but she turned her suddenly sharp eyes to me and held up a single finger to stop me.

"Don't!" She snapped, and I began to feel angry at her light speed transformation from a warm beauty into an ice queen when I noticed her eyes were no longer sharp and cold, but sad and glassy once again with unshed tears. Before I could even think of something to say to ease whatever this mood was that had settled between us, she swiftly jumped off the counter and fluidly pulled her pants and underwear back up. As she finished re-fastening her jeans, she raised her eyes to meet mine once more for the briefest of heartbeats, and her look of utter defeat – as well as the tears silently streaming down her still flushed face – was like a physical slap to my face that had me staggering backwards.

I reached forward for her, but she turned and ran toward the door, unlocking it and throwing it open with such force that it crashed into the bathroom wall, leaving a doorknob shaped hole in the cheap drywall, and then she was gone. I was so shocked, all I could do was stand there and stare dumbly at the wide open door, not even caring that my pants still hung open around my hips, or that I was exposed to anyone who cared to wander down the hall at that moment.

After several minutes, and even more deep breaths, I finally came to my senses enough to dispose of the condom, clean myself up, and readjust my clothing. But that was all the brain capacity I had, and I just stood there, gripping the counter and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like I'd just gone ten rounds with a rabid cat … and _lost_. My hair was standing up on end, my lips were red and swollen, and I had scratches running up and down my neck and shoulders. There were even a few holes torn in the shoulders and sleeves of my shirt. I was a mess, that was for sure.

I couldn't help it, and I felt a little demented for it, but I started laughing. It began as quiet chuckles, and soon I had degraded into hysterical guffaws. It was ridiculous! I just met and fucked a strange woman in the unisex bathroom at Mike's Bar, and now I was standing in the aforementioned lavatory moping like a girl because I was never going to see her again.

That was when it hit me, and I immediately stopped laughing and turned back to my reflection and the now dull, blank eyes that met me there. I was never going to see her again. Suddenly, it wasn't so funny anymore. However brief our encounter was, I had felt a bone deep connection with Bella I had never felt before, and I was never going to get to feel that sensation of absolute "belonging" again. I was never again going to taste the most delectable lips I'd ever had attached to mine. I was never again going to experience the thrilling sensation of living lightning crawling through my body, turning me inside out, and setting my skin ablaze. I was never again going to be joined with Bella. And there it was … the crux of my painful sobriety.

I was contemplating what it all meant – what I _wanted _it all to mean – when a small, shiny black object caught my eye in the mirror, and I spun on my heel to look at the floor to see what it was. I bent down, picked it up, and stood back up with the mother of all cosmic signs in my hand: Bella's phone. Before I could stop myself, or even stop and really think about what it was I was about to do, I turned, grabbed my wallet, and raced out the door and up to the bar.

"Hey, Mike? The brown haired woman that was –"

"What the _fuck_ happened to _you_, Cullen?" He gasped.

I waved him off. "Never mind _that_; the woman that was here before, she left something." I held up her phone to show him but snatched it away when he made to grab for it, glaring at him. "When she returns for it, I want you to give her my number."

He rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, dude."

I reached over the bar and grabbed him by the front of his shirt as he made to turn away from me, growling at him, "She _will_ return for it, and you _will_ give her my number!"

He jerked himself out of my grip, stumbling back a little before turning a fulminating glare on me. "And what the fuck would I do that for?"

"In a word, Newton?" I flashed him my most evil grin. "_Rosalie_."

Mike audibly swallowed, fear invading his eyes as they grew to the size of saucers, and all he could manage was a weak, slack-jawed nod. That's right, fucker!

"Good! I'm glad we understand each other." I smirked at him. I reached into my wallet and slammed a hundred dollar bill on the bar. "That ought to settle my tab." I then turned and strode out of the building, content that my hastily thrown together plan was set in motion. The strains of _Carry On My Wayward Son _by Kansas followed me out the door, and I smiled to myself. It felt as though the karmic gods were communicating their blessing to me. Yes, there would be peace when I was done. I just knew it. Peace … and a beautiful woman by my side!

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><p><strong>AN:**

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